“We’re civilized.”
“You don’t have good noses, though.”
“I still don’t get why if animals can talk to me, you are not smart enough for humans to notice.”
“Beasts are smart only when humans love us. That makes us smarter. It improves our nature but does not change our nature. So we are not going to start thinking about tomorrow and building forts and factories and stuff.”
“How can human love change animals?”
“It’s their authority.”
“Normal people love dogs, but cannot talk like you and I do.”
“You must have more authority or something. Besides, normal people have their eyes held. They cannot see their world.”
“Their eyes held? What does that mean?”
“Mist. Mist in their eyes. In their brains. Darkness in their brains. Makes them stupid. Not see things. Forget things. Forget what is important. Men are fools. How you guys ended up in charge, who knows?”
Gil sighed impatiently. “Only got six more days at the YMCA. I cannot even grab a bus to get to a bigger town that might have more work.”
Ruff said, “Hey! Hey! I have an idea! I know a job you’d be good at. Great at! Great!”
Gil stared in surprise. Ruff was bristling with excitement, hopping on all fours, wagging his tail, practically dancing.
Gil said, “Well, you knew who the prom queen was dating, so maybe you know everything. Where is there a job for me? What job?”
“Be a knight!”
“You mean, enlist in the Army? Hmm. That’s not a bad idea. I hear they pay for college. And they would certainly be more my kind of people than–”
“No! No! Didn’t you hear me? A knight! A knight!”
“I am not sure there is that much money in knighthood, these days. And who is hiring?”
“Plenty of money!”
“There is something in the Constitution that says the government cannot grant titles of nobility or something.”
“Come on! Come on! If Ringo Starr the Beatle can be knighted, Gilberec the Moth can, too! We need to find someone to train you, though. Before your six days are up. Boy!” Ruff jumped up and put his muddy paws against Gil’s chest. “What a good idea! What a doozy of an idea! Great! Great!”
Gil said, “Ruff! Nice dog! Down, boy!” He stood up, lest Ruff knock him over. “I don’t think there is much call for knights. I do not think it is possible.”
“You are a kid who talks to dogs and busts up drug rings, and you are going to tell me what is and is not possible? You’re impossible! And I don’t mean that in a good way!”
Gil chewed on his cooked squirrel thoughtfully. “Who could train me? Where would I find a horse and lance and stuff?”
“Beat someone up and take his horse! Ha! Ha! Dogs get along with horses. I like horses! But– let me see. Training, eh? You don’t have a father.”
Gil let the last morsel of cooked squirrel drop to the ground. “Thanks. I noticed.”
“Yup! No dad. No dad for you! Because you are a bastard.” Ruff sniffed the dropped morsel and then snatched it up happily in his jaws.
“Thanks. I know.” His tone was flat.
“What about a grandfather? Your mother’s dad?”
“I don’t know his name. Mom never talks about her family, except to say that it is really, really big.”
Ruff said, “Yeah! I heard that, too. The Moths are everywhere. The Moths get into everything.”
Gil brightened. “Wait! Really? You know about my family? What have you heard?”
“Ah. That the Moths are everywhere. Like I just said. Just now.”
Gil’s smile faded. “Anything else?”
“Sure! Sure! The Moths get into everything. Anyhow, I thought of someone.”
“Someone who?”
“To train you how to fight!” Ruff jumped excitedly back and forth. “Come on! Come on! You coming? I am going, so you had better be coming!”
“Who? Tell me his name.”
“He does not have a name. You get to pick a name! You coming?”
“Yeah. I am coming. Give me a moment.”
He threw the useless newspaper on the campfire and then began piling dirt to smother the flames.
3. Rabbit
Gil had fashioned himself a hiking stick by finding a likely length of wood and trimming off the twigs. As they hiked, Gil said, “Are you sure there is a need for knights?”
Ruff said, “Sure! Sure! Anyone can tell you. Ask anyone!”
Gil thought it actually might be a good idea to ask around. Gil looked at the long grass in the meadow, saw a rustle, and perceived it was a rabbit. He called the rabbit over, telling Ruff to stand a bit away.
The rabbit sat up on its hindquarters. “What can I do for you, my good sire?”
“Um. I am looking for a job.”
“Everyone is welcome in the warren! How are you at digging holes? Plenty of clover this time of year, the does are in heat, and no need to worry about the wolf. You see, you don’t need to outrun the wolf; you only need to outrun your brother.” The rabbit wore a smug look. “That is a saying we have! When danger comes, abandon your loved ones! So, will you join? The more among us, the merrier! The more targets for the hungry wolf, the better our chances to stay alive!”
“No, not a job as a bunny. I was thinking of being a knight. Have you heard that they have any openings? Um– within walking distance of Blowing Rock, North Carolina?”
The rabbit scratched his ear with his hind leg thoughtfully. “I heard something about knights over around Pisgah National Forest. Something in the wind. Winter knights and Summer knights getting ready for Michaelmas. But I think they were elfs. You know, the hidden people, the Night Folk.”
“Elfs? What can you tell me about them?”
The rabbit shivered. “Nothing. I mean, they steal human beings from the daylight world. Put the come-hither on them. Take you down into their warrens. More targets for the hungry mouths, so more chances to stay alive if you get me. A lot like rabbits, elfs. The more, the merrier.” The rabbit shivered again. “Say nothing! They have sharp ears and many spies.”
“Yeah, I think I met one.”
“They don’t like people talking about them. It is better to call them ‘the Good People’ or ‘the Kindly Folk’ or ‘The Rich Ones’ or something like that.”
Gil said, “Are they real? Where do they come from?”
The rabbit said, “Kindly and good and rich. Like I said. Don’t talk about them. As for knighthood, stupid idea. Knights wear metal for their fur, and they fight. Outmoded, outdated, old-fashioned idea. The latest and best way is to study how to run away!”
Another rabbit, this one smaller and with a nose that never stopped twitching, emerged from the grass just then. “Sire, I could not help but overhear the conversation. Knighthood is one of those theories whose days are past! Rabbits are forward-looking! It is not for nothing that we have such ears, to hear of all the latest trends in the newest thought! Running away is the new fashion!”
Other rabbit voices now came from the grasses. “Quite so! Everyone agrees,” said one, and another said, “Always listen to rabbits! We have the more recent and most profound ideas on all matters!” and a third, “A consensus has been reached! The debate is over!”
Gil said, “But rabbits always run away. Always have. Isn’t that like your thing you are famous for? How is that new?”
But then the two rabbits he could see froze, ears high, motionless as statues. In the near distance was a thrumming noise of a rabbit rapping his hindleg against the ground, their warning signal. The two visible rabbits bounded away with astonishing speed and were gone, and no rustle was heard from the grass.
4. Wolf
Gil looked up and saw a wolf across the meadow, grinning. Gil beckoned him over. The wolf, tongue lolling, came trotting closer but slowed warily and stopped several yards away. The wolf sat down on his haunches.
“Well, you have a strange smell ab
out you,” said the wolf, “A scent not of this world. You look like a Son of Adam, but I think you are a Son of someone else.”
“Who?” asked Gil. “Whose son am I?”
“Cut off all your fine silver hair, and give it to me, and perhaps I will tell.”
Gil said curtly, “No.”
The wolf stood up, and his ears flattened. “You do not know where my pack is or how you are surrounded, do you?”
Gil said, “Pardon my manners, Brother Wolf. Your request took me by surprise. I am not able to cut off all my hair at this time to present to you, for I promised some to my friend, a wren who is using it to line her nest. Please tell me why you want it.”
The wolf sat on his haunches again, green eyes glinting like flames. “You are well spoken, Brother Man-cub. But it would be rude of me to tell you the secret of your own hair that grows on your own head.”
Gil said, “What if I cut a handful of it and present it to you as a gift?”
The glitter in the wolf’s eyes changed, growing less dangerous but more greedy. “That would be noble courtesy indeed, Brother Man-cub.”
Gil drew his knife and cut off a tail of hair from behind his ear. He opened his fingers, and the strands floated down to the grass just before him. The wolf stood up and started to step forward but then paused, as if measuring the distance between the knife still in Gil’s hand and himself. He looked then at the silver hair on the grass, then at Gil’s eyes, and then back at the knife.
Gil said, “What, pray tell, is the matter, Brother Wolf?”
“You still have your knife in your hand, Brother Man-cub.”
“So? It would be discourteous not to offer my hair to your pack mates as well. Have them come out of hiding and show themselves, and we will exchange gifts and secrets of noble worth.”
The wolf said, “No, not so, my packmates—which are many in number, and ferocious fighters—would deem it untoward to impose on a generous heart like yours.”
Gil said, “Come, Brother Wolf. Please take these strands of hair as a gift.”
The wolf stepped slowly and warily toward the spot at Gil’s feet where the hair lay gleaming. Very gingerly, watching Gil and Gil’s knifehand with both eyes, the wolf lowered his head and gently took the hairs between his teeth.
Gil tightened his grip on his knife. It was a tiny, almost invisible motion, but the wolf froze. His head was still down, and he was very close to Gil, but not in any position to spring.
“True courtesy,” said Gil softly, “would be truly satisfied if we both performed as we said. Have you no gift to offer in return?”
The wolf’s eyes were locked on the knife, whose blade gleamed brightly.
The wolf spoke in a husky whisper, moving his lips but not his teeth. “Ask me three questions if you please. That will be my gift.”
“Thank you,” said Gil.
“You are most welcome.”
“Whose son am I?”
“I know not.”
“But you said–”
“The scent of death is upon you, which marks you as a Son of Eve and Adam. Yet also the scent of the mists of otherworld around you, which follows the Sons of Titania and Oberon. Yet you are not of one nor of the other, neither of the Day-born nor the Night-kin. You are one of the Twilight Folk. You are a son of Moth. Your family is called Moth.”
“That does not tell me much, Brother Wolf.”
“You did not give me much hair, Brother Man.”
“What makes my hair precious?”
“Long ago, were men who were my brothers, wolves who walked on two legs and who walked through the wood as warily and swiftly as do I. They worshiped many spirits, including the great wolf spirit. They danced the Ghost Dance, to turn the bullets of the white men away. Those who had hair like yours to weave into their ghost shirts had charmed lives, and the weapon they most feared, the weapon with no dreams, would not bite them. So it is for you: you will not die by firearms.”
“What? Am I bulletproof?”
“Ask your third question, kindly and gracious brother, for I must be away!”
“Uh, sure, uh. What about knighthood as a career? Are there any jobs open?”
“For that profession?” and now the wolf made a low and ugly chuckle in its throat. Then, the wolf recited:
And ever and anon the wolf would steal
The children and devour, but now and then,
Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat
To human sucklings; and the children, housed
In her foul den, there at their meat would growl,
And mock their foster-mother on four feet,
Till, straightened, they grew up to wolf-like men,
Worse than the wolves.
“What does that mean?” asked Gil. “Uh, if you please?”
And the wolf answered, “If you please, dear brother, it means that in the land of wolves, there is always a need for wolfhounds. In the land of darkness, there is always a need for lanterns of light. The pay is poor, however. Glory is the payment, glory and death. Farewell, young knight. You have been courteous to me, an enemy of your race, and given me a boon beyond your reckoning. I will tell others of my kind of your gracious spirit if you will tell me your name, and I will glorify it.”
“Tell me your name first.”
“Beasts have no names. You may call me Krasny Volk Odinokyy, the Lone Red Wolf.”
“Lone? So there is no pack surrounding me?”
The green-eyed wolf grinned. “I am ecumenical and cosmopolitan. I consider all wolves wherever in the world to be my pack. Think about it. From any spot on the globe, if you look in any quarter, north or south or east or west, and if you are willing to look far enough, eventually you will find a wolf! In a figurative sense, I think of all men as surrounded! A striking image, is it not?”
“Poetry worthy of a nightingale, dear brother.”
“Thank you, good brother. Will you honor me in turn with your name?”
“I am Gilberec Parzival Moth.”
The wolf looked startled and almost dropped the hairs. “The son of Ygraine of the Riddles? How can this be? How? They said you were dead! They said your mother was flown away, far away, on swan-wings to the place in the Summer Stars!” He twitched his ears and turned his frightened eyes left and right. “I take my leave of you, good sir.”
“Wait a minute! Who? Who said that?”
But the gray wolf had slunk away swiftly into the dark wood and was gone.
“Who said I was dead?” Gil shouted toward the trees.
There was no answer.
5. Thrush
Even as he stood looking after the wolf, wondering, a thrush flew down from the branches overhead and landed on Gil’s shoulder. “I could not help but overhear. Are you indeed Gilberec Moth?” piped the bird.
“Sure, that’s me. I am looking for a job. You heard anything?”
The thrush said, “I have heard.”
Gil brightened. “About a job?”
“No. I heard the voice of your cousin under the river water.”
Gil frowned, wondering if this were some bird joke. “Drowned? Or swimming?”
“Both.”
“How did you know it was my cousin?”
“You are the son of Ygraine Moth, Ygraine Silverlocks of the Many Riddles, Ygraine of the Wise Reeds, Ygraine of the Celestial Cloak. All birds know her, but of her we never speak.”
“Where is she from? Who did she marry? What is she?”
“Of her we never speak.”
“But you just– argh!– okay, whatever. What about my drowned cousin? You heard what? Yells for help?”
“I heard the song that was sung. Know you the waterfall called Linville Falls?” the thrush asked.
“Sure. It’s in the national forest. At the head of the gorge.”
“The Cherokee would slay their prisoners cruelly by throwing them over these falls. Only one man ever survived a plunge over it. The ghosts of the dead are thick in the
gorge beneath. The door to the other world can open there. Your cousin entered through the opening, having heard that there are lights on Brown Mountain at night, not lit by human hands. One of the best vantage points to spy these lights, Wiseman’s View, is one league from the falls as the thrush flies. So said the song that was sung.”
“Well– wait a minute! There is a door in my house I want to open. He knows how to do it? What is his name?”
The bird said, “Whose name?”
“My cousin!”
“Moth.” And with this, the thrush flew up and away.
6. Wise Reeds
Gil beckoned Ruff, who came trotting over. Ruff said, “So, you talked to the rabbits. What did they say about my idea of you being a knight? Said it was great! Said it was great! I am sure! Everyone agrees!”
“The rabbits said knighthood was a terrible idea.”
“Bah! Nah! Don’t listen to rabbits. They never know what they are talking about.”
“The rabbits also told me not to talk about elfs.”
“Yup! You should listen. Rabbits are wise. Also, I saw you talking to a wolf. Never trust them. They only speak lies.”
“The wolf said being a knight was always something that is needed, a lamp in a dark land, but that the wages were glory and death.”
Ruff nodded. “Very wise. Always listen to wolves. They know what is what!”
“And you heard what the thrush said? Cousins and ghosts and lights on Brown Mountain and never talking about my mother. And the rabbit said something about the winter and summer knights at the national park. It sounds like something is up. What was that all about?”
Ruff said, “Yeah! Yeah! I know!”
“What do you know?”
“I know something is up. Something must be up!”
“What? What is up?”
Ruff sat and scratched and bit a flea on his hindquarters. “Dunno. Dunno. But something!”
“Wow. Brilliant.”
“Hey! Hey! I am a dog. You want brilliance, talk to a fox. They will swap riddles with you like a sphinx. You want to hunt the fox, talk to me. Who is more brilliant in the long run then? The dog or the fox?”
Swan Knight's Son Page 4
